


The Lengths

by altered_eagle



Series: City Goblins [10]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, Dark Knight (2008)
Genre: Batjokes, Drug Withdrawal, Hurt/Comfort, Joker whump, M/M, Medical, Some angst, The Babysitter's Club - Freeform, basically everything you would expect in altered's batjokes fic, fuckin' a, oh yeah and Alfred is around in this one too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 20:07:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7521325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altered_eagle/pseuds/altered_eagle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>He’s shaking, and it's steadily getting worse. They're only thirteen hours in (this is just the beginning) and Wayne knows that they're in for a rough couple of days but he doesn't mind so much. The worry is starting to wear on him though.</i><br/> <br/>A little prequel to my upcoming fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lengths

**Author's Note:**

> So this rough little fic was actually a part of a larger one i'm working on in which Bruce rescues the Joker from The Bad People at Arkham, and gets to witness the Joker's mental illness in full-force as he's withdrawing from antipsychotics. i nearly scrapped this because it's not essential to the whole story, but then i thought some folks might like to read it...even if it's not the same caliber as my regular fic : /

The coals are hot  
To walk across without your shoes  
But in the end, know that you've got nothing to lose 

—[The Lengths: The Black Keys](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o8tBPidveM4)

It’s long past midnight, and the Joker hasn’t been able to keep anything down. Not even water, or medication, and Wayne is beside himself with worry. He’s not surprised when his nemesis protests the idea of intravenous fluids (the Joker’s been drugged against his will so often; he has trouble trusting anybody) but Wayne doesn’t back down this time.

 _No, i’m putting a line in you now,_ Wayne tells him. _Either that or you can go to the hospital. And that’s not a threat,_ he adds as the Joker starts to object. _That’s just how it has to be._ The clown slumps back against the bathroom wall, frowning as he watches Wayne open the kit.

_i don’t think—_

_Shut up god damn you just shut up,_ Wayne snaps as he pulls on a pair of gloves. _i’m in no mood for your self destructive bullshit Joker. You’re really dehydrated, and you’re going to end up in serious trouble if we don’t get fluids into you as soon as we can. If you want to stay here you’ll just have to trust me, and let me do this._

 _Alright alright,_ the Joker sighs. _Jesus Christ._ He pulls his sleeves up to expose his forearms. _Good luck._ His skin is a map of scars. There are already several pinprick bruises from needles clustered around the bends in his elbows.

 _You had half as many scars on your arms six months ago,_ Wayne remarks. _What have they been doing to you in that place._ The Joker just shakes his head and refuses to talk about it.

He always does.

Wayne swallows the anger back and focuses on the task at hand. He tightens the tourniquet, waits for the Joker to pump his fist a few times and begins to palpate for veins.

Wayne can’t find one that isn’t collapsed, or scarred. It feels like there are tiny pebbles under the Joker’s skin.

 _Pick one,_ Wayne says at last. _You were a paramedic; pick a good site and i’ll try it._ The Joker laughs hollowly.

 _There are no good sites left. i've spent half my time at Arkham hooked up to an IV._ But nevertheless he prods up and down his arms, searching. After a few seconds he takes Wayne’s hand and presses his fingertips to a place on the side of his left forearm.

 _This one._ He applies a bit more pressure. _Here, in between the hardened spots. Can you feel that._ Wayne can’t. He shakes his head. _It’s okay,_ the clown says quietly. _You can start with my hands if you need a practice round or two._ Wayne flinches at the thought.

 _i'm not even sure i'll be able to hit one at all,_ he admits. _i didn't realize that you have so much scarring, and i don't have a lot of experience with veins as messed up as yours are._ The Joker shrugs, doesn't respond. It seems he doesn't have the energy to argue anymore. He still looks pretty nauseous and his lips are almost white. He’s shaking, and it's steadily getting worse. They're only thirteen hours in (this is just the beginning) and Wayne knows that they're in for a rough couple of days but he doesn't mind so much. The worry is starting to wear on him though.

Wayne removes his gloves kneels next to the Joker and begins to rub his back, just to give them both a break. The clown huddles closer, tucks his face into the crook of Wayne's neck. It’s odd: how tactile he becomes when he’s not well. It’s odd: how natural it feels to Wayne to comfort him. But it feels right

and real

so for the most part Wayne has stopped questioning it. He's stopped questioning Them. Sometimes they simply need one another.

Nearly five minutes pass in silence before Wayne makes a decision:

_Alfred can help. He’s never missed a vein on me._

_Never?_

_Okay maybe once or twice,_ Wayne admits. _But he’ll be able to get a catheter in you. We’ll use a heating pad too, that might make things a bit easier._ He straightens up. _Just. Sit tight for a minute, i’m going to go talk to him._

_Are you sure you wanna do that._

_What?_ The Joker is watching him critically.

_Are you sure that you want to involve your butler friend in this and force him to help me. You know how he feels about me._

_i won’t force him, i’m just going to talk with him_. Wayne leans forward to kiss the Joker’s forehead (twice) and stands. _i’ll be right back._


End file.
